Little Strength
by ellesmer.joe3
Summary: She was the perfect conundrum. Always had been. There was defiance in her quiet. He had seen her in pain before but had never heard her complain. Not even when the full moon's night was particularly unforgiving. / He knew that hers was a different kind of strength. Quiet strength... Little strength.


_A/N: Vaguely inspired by Taylor Swift's "You Are In Love" I guess?_

 _Also, this work has no dialogue and the OC will remain unnamed, only being referred to as "she". Just a head's up._

 _(11/13/2017) Updated._

* * *

Severus glared at her from across the room, refusing to look away even when she raised her head and caught him staring.

She had mousey brown hair and a deathly pale complexion. Generally she was the very picture of haggardness, which was a given considering how it had been a full moon the night before. Severus was astonished that she had been able to get out of bed that morning, or that Madam Pomfrey had even let her _try_. Then again, the girl had always been quite stubborn.

She surrounded herself with the noisiest bunch – Flint and Montague's clique – probably to hide her own timid, quiet nature. The only times she ever got in trouble was if the boys dragged her into it. She reminded him too much of Lupin in that way.

It became very easy for him to despise her.

Severus could grant that she was a good enough student, devoting time for her requirements and submitting them never a day late – even during the days leading up to the Change. He had been there when she'd spoken to the Headmaster about Special Cases (primarily because she had been sorted into Slytherin House and was therefore His Responsibility.)

She had made it very clear to Dumbledore that she didn't want to be treated any differently because of her condition. No extended deadlines, no pity, and no strings attached. The only thing she asked was that the teachers never reveal her Lycanthropy to anyone.

Dumbledore had foolishly agreed.

And so Severus could only watch from afar as she lived up to her own prerequisites, destroying her body in the process.

There had been many a time when she walked into the Great Hall and was mistaken for a ghost. Pale as a sheet with dark circles ringing her eyes. Even more often, Snape would enter the Library searching for a book in the Restricted Section and instead find her resting her head on the pages of some thick tome, dozing away, having just escaped from the noise of Flint's group. It was always ever during one of her free periods. Snape wondered why she wouldn't just catch up on sleep in her own bed.

Poppy complained regularly about the girl's health, saying that she was getting far too little sleep and eating even less. Severus would have been lying if he said that he didn't agree with the Mediwitch.

Like any true Head of Slytherin, he devised a plan with Poppy on how they could sneak the proper vitamins into the girl's pumpkin juice (which was the only thing she finished every morning.)

As for her food, Severus had a brief discussion with Richardson, arguably the most decent one in their clique, and mentioned how one of his friends, specifically Her, had been losing an unhealthy amount of weight; in a stroke of genius Severus also said that he wouldn't be carrying her to Madam Pomfrey should she suddenly faint in class.

More specific than was probably required, but it did the trick. She started eating again and some meat returned to her bones.

Severus had her for detention most of the time. Dumbledore believed that they could instill the proper aptitude for right and wrong within her only if she was separated from the boys of Slytherin. Severus was loath to admit it, but she did have the makings to be someone better.

During these detentions, he saw an entirely different side of her. It was obvious she was more comfortable around him than she was supposed to be. Oftentimes she would try to engage him in conversation while she was writing lines or scrubbing cauldrons and the like. Snape made it very clear that he was not there to become her friend.

That didn't stop her though. Thus, her stubbornness.

After a few sessions, he found that it was pointless to resist her. What was the point if she kept trying anyway? Severus began responding, little by little; always making sure that there was the perfect amount of venom in his voice. He had even insulted her once, an insult appropriate for Potter or Granger or Weasley, though not for her.

Even he acknowledged that.

She surprised him when she merely laughed.

Her smiles were rare. Her laughs even rarer.

At the time it had irritated him; he had thrown the insult to get her to shut up, after all. But after a while, he soon found that he quite enjoyed her company.

Before he knew it, they were having long conversations about Potions, arguably her best subject next to Arithmancy. She was very intellectual.

Severus grew a grudging respect for her, perhaps even admiration, at times. She gained it slowly, quietly, and he didn't know she even had it until her seventh year. The year Umbridge came to Hogwarts.

Dolores didn't much like the girl. She thought it appalling that Dumbledore even let her go through the Change within the castle. She thought that he shouldn't waste precious resources and potion ingredients for something so "foul". Albus would have none of it, of course, and dismissed her notions at a regular basis.

When Dumbledore escaped from the clutches of the Ministry, leaving the Headmaster's seat open in the process, Umbridge's first order of business was to overrule his previous commands. Snape was forced to stop brewing the Wolfsbane Potion under the threat of immediate sacking. Pomfrey was given clear orders to not "grant aid to the werewolf filth."

The girl was forced to undergo the Change inside the Shrieking Shack.

The entirety of Hogsmeade heard her screams that night. When morning came, there was talk of the return of old ghosts, rumors that Death Eaters were behind it. Severus was reminded of a night long ago, of being baited by Potter to the Shack, of the terror that had followed.

She didn't attend class the next day. Severus couldn't blame her. Some part of him, some odd part that had been long dormant, wanted to make time to visit her. He tried to reason that she would undoubtedly be in her room, that it was inappropriate to visit her _there_. And though he still worried… he did not go to her.

The next morning, she walked into breakfast and the Great Hall grew quiet. You could hear a pin drop. The students were shocked, even more curious. The teachers pitied her. Umbridge was smug, pleased with herself. She would not expel the girl; she wanted her to suffer. Severus very much wanted to strangle her.

 _She_ had never looked worse. Her face was deathly pale, making her new scars stand out even more. During Potions, when they were revising, Severus could see even from the front of the room how badly her hands were shaking. She walked slowly, like she would collapse any second.

The worst part was her eyes. Normally so bright, defiant each time she looked at Umbridge. They had become lifeless.

They returned to fire as the week progressed. Severus could see that the pain was there, an insistent ache in her bones with every move, but her flame burned true. Severus no longer even gave her detentions; Umbridge did that for him. At least twice a week.

Severus didn't fail to notice the letters carved into the back of her hand, bright red every time she left the Defense office.

Severus talked to her one night, asked her just what she was expecting to gain whilst she was practically begging for punishment from Umbridge.

She had smiled. _Pain can't break a werewolf._

* * *

The Dark Lord attempted to recruit her the next year through Lucius Malfoy. She had denied him outright and promptly disappeared, fool that she was, with the aid of Dumbledore, instead hiding within the ranks of the Order.

Lupin didn't like her very much and the feeling was reciprocated, all to the pleasure of Severus. Neither of them would be very good with anything other than reconnaissance with the werewolves, anyway.

During their spare time, Severus taught her how to fight, pushed her harder than he ever had while she was still in school. He brewed Wolfsbane for her and Lupin. She learned about his status as a double spy.

And Severus could have been imagining it, but he could have sworn that he saw something change between them. Little things. He insulted her less and less. Her tone of voice softened up around him. He was no longer so afraid to touch her when she needed help moving or getting up from the ground during their dueling sessions. She looked at him... differently.

When news reached the Order that Dumbledore had fallen off the top of the Astronomy Tower, killed at the hands of Snape himself, he lost all contact with her.

Severus truly believed that he would never see her again. Either of them were sure to be dead before the war was over.

With that realization came disappointment.

And his disappointment only skyrocketed when Voldemort fell, and Potter survived, and so did Severus himself but no one else knew. He went into hiding; in doing so he believed that he could start anew, banish all thoughts of past love, perhaps find another, perhaps _her_.

In the dead of night, he snuck into Hogwarts to lay eyes on the hall of the dead. She was not there. It meant nothing. His hope for a second, better chance at life dwindled.

He left Britain, left Europe all together. He moved to a quiet town in the States, the quietest there was, and decided to go by his mother's surname instead. Severus Prince.

There was a beach nearby as well. He considered getting a tan, if only to look less like Professor Snape. Professor Snape was a dead man who was last seen in the boathouse; his body had never been found.

Severus Prince was very much alive.

* * *

Four years passed. He came to accept the fact that he was going to die alone.

He was not too broken down about it. He knew he was not the most agreeable man in the world. He was foul during the best of days and even his compliments were hidden behind insults. He knew he was never going to find a wife, he figured that out for himself in his third year at Hogwarts.

Though the sunset was particularly entrancing, Severus found his attention dragged away from the view when a very large, very wet nose was thrust into his line of sight.

The Doberman sniffed at his face rather enthusiastically. There had never been any dogs on the beach before, especially so close to the water. But its paws were wet, covered with sand, and it didn't seem to mind. Severus, on the other hand, was curious as to why the dog had thought to approach him in the first place. Animals had never done that before.

Once it had finished sniffing, apparently satisfied with Severus, it dropped onto its stomach and laid its head onto Severus' lap. He allowed it to do so. He had never done that before, either.

Just as the air began to still, the quiet was broken once more by a second pair of footsteps. Human footsteps, kicking up sand, heading towards Severus. He sighed in exasperation.

A woman's voice. High-pitched and mortified, saying that she was sorry and no, Prince (the dog, Severus presumed) was not usually like this with strangers. That was all he was able to process, because then his mind had caught up to what was happening and he knew that voice. She so rarely used it but he would recognize it anywhere.

He raised his head and there she was.

The years had changed her. The _war_ had changed her. There were new lines on her face, her eyes even more haunted. She had always looked older than she actually was, the unfortunate reality of being a werewolf, but she had never looked more venerable... or more beautiful.

Severus became aware of the silence the same moment Prince hopped off of his lap and trotted over to her, tongue hanging out, tail wagging. She tore her eyes away from Severus and crouched to scratch the dog's chin, at the same time attaching a leash onto its collar. Severus suspected that she was trying to form words.

She said that he was supposed to be dead. He replied that she was, too. She just shook her head and sat down on the sand beside him. The both of them watched the sunset. She recounted her story.

While most of the students had been busy keeping the Death Eaters from taking the castle, she had been in the Forbidden Forest. Apparently Harry wasn't the only one to have been left a secret mission by Dumbledore. She and Lupin had been tasked with rallying the Lycanthropes who had not sided with the Dark Lord. They had been a small army at best.

She recalled thinking that she'd been lucky to have survived. Severus recalled that the Final Battle had been on a full moon. Many others had died, Lupin included – although, she did explain that she had been presumed dead as well. She had garnered many injuries that night, and her body had never been found.

Severus smiled. It seemed that she was still the same as he, even in this. Missing. Acknowledged war heroes. Dead men who decided a life left behind was a better one.

As Prince playfully nuzzled his arm, hope once more flared to life within Severus. Perhaps the world did not despise him as much as he'd thought.

* * *

He took her out to dinner only once before they decided that it was entirely too domesticated. Despite their improved level of casualness, it still felt odd to be together with her in public as... something more than just teacher and student. Perhaps even more than just friends.

Even just sitting on the shore was domesticated at times, but Severus quite enjoyed the heat on his skin. There had been far too little of that in Britain.

She tried dragging him into a lot of activities that even his teenaged self would never have dreamed of doing. Raving, drinking with complete strangers, going to a strip club – all of which he denied. But he always went with her, just for security measures, he kept telling himself.

When she went skinny dipping in the beach at midnight, Severus was more... observant than he'd ever been. He stared as she emerged onto the sand, drops of saltwater clinging to her skin, rolling down her breasts, past her hips, past her scars. She was quick to throw her clothes back on – it was freezing – and Severus noted that goddess as she may be, she was still too thin. Still entirely too thin.

He wondered when she had grown out of being a gangly, awkward youth and transformed into a woman. He certainly hadn't been there when it happened.

* * *

They had their first fight on the beach. Typical, Severus thought.

She had been tipsy the previous night and entirely too clingy with one of her drinking buddies. Severus hadn't needed to think twice; he quickly dragged her away from the bar and proceeded to berate her on what attitude was proper for women. He had felt like a teacher again, and he was sure she'd felt like another one of his students.

Perhaps that was what made her lash out so fiercely.

They parted with bad blood. He suspected that she'd only done so because her hand was practically itching to slap him.

The next morning he found her sitting on Their Spot. When he came to sit next to her, she handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet. He did not ask where she had gotten it; he glanced down at the front page and read.

A face, vaguely familiar from Severus' time as a Death Eater. A name. Her last name. Her father. The man had been killed trying to escape Aurors who had caught his scent and gave chase. A fighter even when the cause was hopeless, just like his daughter.

Severus looked over to her, laid the newspaper down on the sand between them. Her eyes were not bloodshot, not puffy. Her hands did not shake. She had not been crying.

Wordlessly she stood, threw him a brief smile over her shoulder, and began walking. Severus followed.

She was the perfect conundrum. Always had been. There was defiance in her quiet. He had seen her in pain before but had never heard her complain. Not even when the full moon's night was particularly unforgiving.

He knew that hers was a different kind of strength. Quiet strength... Little strength.

Little strength. When he mentioned said term later in the day, she became indignant, thinking he was insulting her height. The truth was that he had never meant it as an insult; she had come to that insinuation herself. He told her such, watched as her anger bled away in silence to be replaced by something... new.

He made it a point to call her by her new moniker as much as possible. He knew that she liked it more than she let on.

* * *

It wasn't until he was forced to stay the night at her place (she was very drunk, he took it upon himself to ensure she wasn't alone when she woke up with a massive hangover) that he found out about her night terrors.

She dreamed of the war. The fighting. Snapping jaws and tearing skin. The scent of blood in the air. Men and women of the same disposition, dead by her hand.

She was crying when she startled awake. Severus had never seen her cry before.

There was beauty in her pain, in her fear, in the tears streaming down her cheeks. Severus halted the river and brought his finger to his lips, tasted the salt. Images flashed in his mind, her memories of the war, and he had never seen it from a different perspective before. Had it really been that… terrifying?

She looked at him. Such pain in the eyes that bore into his soul, pain long stowed away, hidden so she could be strong. A realization came to Severus – no one had ever seen her like this before. He felt his soul splinter and break, shatter, melt, and as he watched her he felt it move and _weave into her_.

Her eyes widened. She felt it too.

Gently he maneuvered her back onto the pillows. When she gripped his arm and asked him to stay, he was not strong enough to deny her. He never had been.

The night progressed. Neither of them slept.

Severus glanced down at the girl – _woman,_ he corrected – in his arms. Little slip of a thing. Fragile. Breakable. But he could feel her heart beating just as his own pounded against his ribcage, strong and in time. He no longer knew which cadence was hers.

She shifted against him. Her hair – chestnut, dull and rich and intoxicating at the same time – was tilted backwards, giving way for painfully amber eyes.

There was a strange look on her face. Her lips parted and Severus already knew the words that were about to leave them. Yet in the end, her jaw snapped shut. Her mind was racing, her emotions playing out so clearly in her eyes. Recognition, wonder, joy, hesitation, fearful but not afraid and Severus smiled.

She did not need to say anything. He already knew and, part of him suspected, so did she. The proof was in the way her lashes fluttered, the way he could not seem to breathe properly around her. He could say anything, he _had_ , and still she stayed. He could not ask any more of her.

He kissed her. It was the only thing he could think to do. It felt right – and then after a moment, belated, crawling into his chest, he was falling. Headlong into an endless spiral of awe and gratitude and surprise, pleasant, and joy and _hope_ , brighter than ever, and contentment and shock because how could he be feeling so much and _so many_ all at once?

It was the universe exploding into existence, the first gasp of air after a state of half-death. Her hand in his. It was her smile. It was her laugh.

In his mind's eye, Lily was smiling down at the both of them and thinking, _Finally._

Later – a long while later – Severus smiled, too.

Finally, indeed.


End file.
